The Mating Habits of Gryffindors
by malfoysminx
Summary: Stars well-dressed!Harry and somewhat-in-denial!Draco as the seventh years celebrate the end of school. Also includes leather-trousers!Harry, karaoke and an intriguing game of truth or dare. dm/hp drarry SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The first of seven chapters. In which Draco reminisces about the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw parties.

This story is very slashy and a bit fluffy. If thats not your cup of tea, you might want to head out now. Otherwise, enjoy! As usual, updates should be pretty regular as the story is finished :)

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 1:

Draco relaxed back on the sofa, taking a sip of his Mai Tai. The cocktail was one of the few muggle things Draco appreciated. He'd already lost count of how many he'd had and was now well on his way to being nicely tipsy.

The Slytherin common room was packed with people; most of them seventh years (though a few sixth years had sneaked in) and most of them were drunk. An improvised dance floor had been created in one corner, while a bar had been set up along the opposite wall. The chairs and sofas that were normally spread around the area were collected in clusters across the room.

From Draco's position he had a clear view of everything that was going on. He let his gaze drift briefly to the door, before shifting his attention towards the multitude of entwined couples on the dance floor. His eyes settled briefly on Granger and the Weasel who were chatting to a couple of Ravenclaws near the bar, before returning once again to the door.

The party had been in full swing for at least an hour but Har… Potter was yet to grace the room with his presence. Not that Draco was bothered in the slightest. And he definitely wasn't disappointed. Far from it. He was merely curious as to what Potter would be wearing _this_ time. Not that he cared what Potter wore, or even noticed, much.

Draco allowed his thoughts to drift back to the first party of the little quadrilogy being hosted by the seventh year students. Beginning in Hufflepuff the previous Saturday, the seventh year house tour had begun rather surprisingly...

Blaise and Draco had arrived late – having already shared a bottle of firewhiskey between them before leaving Slytherin territory. They had arrived just in time to witness Potter's response to a dare. A metal pole had been conjured atop a table in the centre of the room and Potter was proceeding to put on one hell of a show.

He was dressed in tight fitting black trousers and a forest green shirt, which was open low enough to give everyone a pretty good view of Potter's muscular chest. Draco had found himself strangely riveted to the sight of Potter's thrusting, writhing body. Though he denied it later, of course.

The next incident had been two days later at the Ravenclaw party. Draco had arrived somewhat earlier for this one. Partly because he was less reluctant to enter Ravenclaw territory than Hufflepuff, and partly because between them, he and Blaise had entirely exhausted their own alcohol store. (Unfortunately the Slytherin booze run wasn't scheduled until Thursday.) However, Draco soon found himself a bottle of firewhiskey before ensconcing himself in a corner of the room.

The room was already relatively busy when Draco arrived, but within half an hour, Ravenclaw tower was filled to bursting. The music was loud and a group of people had started a sort of dance floor near Draco's corner of the room.

Curiously, he found himself studying the couples. Some were predictable (regrettably, Granger and Weasley were entwined together on one of the nearby arm chairs) while others were more unexpected. (No one had been more surprised than the Slytherins when Pansy Parkinson had suddenly announced she was dating Neville Longbottom).

And then there was Potter - the centre of everything as usual. Potter had caused an even bigger stir than Pansy and Longbottom when he was caught sucking off Justin Finch-Fletchley in an empty classroom.

Being out of the closet seemed to agree with Potter, however. His self-confidence appeared to have shot up, not to mention the improvement in his dress sense. And tonight was another example.

This evening, Potter wore a pair of dark blue jeans that were so tight they looked painted on. He had teamed them with a short-sleeved white shirt. The fabric was thin, giving it a slightly sheer quality and again he seemed to have missed out half the buttons when he was getting ready. Clearly he couldn't even manage to dress himself properly, but overall, he did look pretty good. For Potter.

Draco took another swig from his bottle, watching as Potter made his way onto the dance floor. Within seconds he was joined by a dark haired Hufflepuff Draco had never bothered learning the name of. Potter didn't seem to object as the other boy wrapped his arms around the Gryffindor, pressing their bodies closer together.

Draco looked away in disgust. He had no problem with homoerotic displays of affection. In fact he sometimes enjoyed them, being that way inclined himself. But he had no desire whatsoever to witness the mating habits of Gryffindors. Or Hufflepuffs for that matter.

Without his permission, however, Draco's eyes drifted back to where Potter was dancing. His tongue was now shoved down the Hufflepuff's throat and one of his hands had slid beneath the brunette's t-shirt. It was positively indecent the way the two boys were grinding against each other.

A moment later they broke for air and Potter looked up, straight at Draco. Catching the Slytherin's gaze, Potter winked lasciviously before lowering his hand to cup his partner's arse through his jeans.

Draco's blood suddenly didn't know where to go, torn between his face and rushing south. Somehow he managed to supply both parts of his body, though it left little left for his brain. It was this he blamed for the fact that he continued to watch as Potter lowered his head, sucking at his companion's neck, without taking his eyes off Draco.

If the Hufflepuff's reaction was anything to go by, Potter was pretty skilled with his mouth and Draco found himself wondering how it would feel if it was _his_ body Potter was wrapped around. He quickly pushed that thought away, along with the many other's which suddenly seemed to be pushing their way into Draco's mind. Just because Potter was acting like a wanton slut, didn't mean Draco had to play along.

Yet Draco's eyes had stayed locked with Potter's. The rest of the room seemed oblivious to the growing tension between the two boys, but Draco could feel the heat of Potter's gaze as strongly as if the Gryffindor had been two feet away from him.

Draco had stared as Potter got the other boy off in the middle of the dance floor, almost able to feel the movement of Potter's hand on his own body. And not once had Potter looked away from him. Until finally, smirking shamelessly at Draco, Potter turned away, leaving the party in full swing, the Hufflepuff following eagerly at his heels.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The second of seven chapters. In which Draco attends the Gryffindor gathering.

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 2:

Draco had not slept well that night. Or the next. And when Wednesday rolled around Draco had almost decided to skip the Gryffindor party all together. He was just considering his options, excuse wise, when Blaise sauntered in.

"Not dressed yet, Draco? Not like you."

"I'm not going." Draco responded quickly. "My idea of fun does not involve being surrounded by drunk Gryffindors."

"No, just surrounded by one particular Gryffindor." Blaise retorted cheekily.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Zabini."

Blaise clearly wasn't convinced but he dropped the subject.

"You have to come Malfoy, you promised Pansy. She won't let you get out of it unless you're immobilised in the hospital wing"

Draco scowled, knowing Blaise was right. This was a big night for Pansy and he'd promised her weeks ago he would be there. Sullenly, Draco stomped over to his cupboard, tugging out a pair of fitted black jeans and his favourite grey silk shirt.

"Stop sulking Draco. You never know, tonight might be your night."

"My night for what?" Draco asked distractedly, peering at his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned his shirt.

"Nothing, nothing." Blaise paused thoughtfully. "So, I wonder who Potter will cop off with tonight."

"Why should I care who Potter screws?" Draco replied coolly.

"No reason."

Draco turned to glare at his friend, though he knew it was useless. Once Blaise got an idea into his head there was little anyone could do to remove it. It was easier just to ignore him until he got bored, or found something more interesting to distract him.

The Gryffindor party was somewhat better than Draco had expected. There were copious amounts of snacks and alcohol, and aside from the muggle karaoke machine someone had set up, it actually looked pretty impressive.

Moving over to the drinks table to procure a bottle of something or other, Draco let his gaze drift across the room, settling almost instantly on the bunch of people crowded around the karaoke machine. In centre of the group was Potter.

He was dressed in fitted black trousers and a sheer black shirt that was held closed by no more than two or three of the lower buttons. The shirt clung to his muscles accentuating them every time he moved and left very little to the imagination. Potter's perfectly sculpted six-pack was clearly on show through the fine fabric of his shirt and he looked, well, breathtaking.

Draco turned away quickly, grabbing a glass of punch from the table before retreating to a hidden corner. Potter was not attractive in any way, shape or form, Draco reminded himself firmly, forcibly preventing his gaze from returning to the cluster of Gryffindor's by the karaoke machine.

Taking a sip from his punch, Draco realised his mistake. Why he'd decided to veer from his usual habit of firewhiskey, straight up, (or the occasional mai tai exception) he didn't know. The punch had been spiked, obviously. But Draco couldn't help wondering by how many people. He could hardly taste the fruit juice that had originally formed the base for the drink.

Suddenly a horrific noise filled the room. Glancing up, Draco saw the karaoke microphone clenched firmly in the hand of Pansy and groaned aloud. How Pansy was still oblivious to her complete lack of vocal talents he didn't know. So this was why the punch was spiked, he mused, as he knocked back the whole glass in one go.

The problem with this response to Pansy's singing, was that he was now out of alcohol and would have to make a return trip to the makeshift bar. At which Potter was currently standing. Realising what he was thinking, Draco got hurriedly to his feet. He was _not _scared of Potter.

"Malfoy."

Draco took a deep breath before turning to face his ex-nemesis.

"Potter."

Draco returned his attention to refilling his glass with another serving of punch, hoping Potter would get the hint. He didn't.

"You know, this shirt is surprisingly warm…"

Draco, who had just taken a sip of his drink, spluttered gracelessly at this comment. Unwillingly, his gaze drifted towards the shirt in question.

Potter really was well built. Years of quidditch (and battling dark lords) had served him well. Draco found himself tracing the line of muscles across Potter's stomach and quickly looked away.

He was feeling rather too close to suggesting that Potter remove the shirt if he was so hot. And as that would be somewhat counterproductive (the last thing he wanted to see right now was a half naked Potter), Draco found himself searching, somewhat desperately, for a means of escape. Where was Blaise when he needed him, anyway?

Fortunately, the appearance of Finnegan with a bottle of firewhiskey distracted Potter's attention long enough for Draco to escape gratefully back to his corner. Pansy had finally finished singing and Granger and Weasel were now sharing the mic. They were singing a sickly sweet duet that Draco didn't recognise but at least they had some musical talent between them.

Draco continued to drink steadily for the next twenty minutes or so. He was left in relative peace for most of this time, the only incident occurring when Blaise waylaid him briefly on his way to the bar to make a totally unnecessary comment about the way Potter's muscles looked in that shirt.

He had just settled back into his seat with his fourth (or was it fifth?) glass of punch when his gaze found itself drifting towards the karaoke stand. There was currently no one singing, though several people were gathered around the song list.

As Draco watched, Dean Thomas (who was coordinating the karaoke, having successfully converted the system to run magically) selected a disk and placed it into the machine behind him. Locating the mic he handed it to one of the people still bunched around the book, a huge grin on his face.

Draco shifted slightly in his seat, curious as to who would sing next. There were a small number of Slytherins gathered and Draco wondered briefly if Goyle intended to sing. (Having overheard the boy singing in the shower many a time, Draco had a grudging respect for his housemate's abilities.)

The music started and after a while a voice joined it. Not Goyle then. And thankfully not Pansy either. The voice belonged to a man and had a rich tone that sent shivers down Draco's spine. He didn't recognise the song but that wasn't saying much. At least half the songs were by muggle artists Draco had never even heard of.

The voice of the mysterious singer continued to thrill Draco as the lyrics began to filter through into his thoughts.

"So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel nuts."

Draco's eyes widened, his desire to see the owner of the voice increasing ten-fold. At that moment, the crowd parted and Draco caught sight of the singer. He didn't even try to hide his groan when his eyes came to rest, once again, on Harry sodding Potter.

Potter was clearly enjoying himself, putting on a show for the surrounding students. As much as Draco was loathed to admit it, he knew Potter had never willingly sought attention through their first six years at Hogwarts. All that seemed to have changed, however. As illustrated by Potter's current performance.

He was dancing to the music, swinging his hips provocatively, sliding his hands up and down his own body as he continued to sing. And Draco couldn't tear his eyes away. Once again he could feel himself growing hard, as Potter grabbed a handful of his shirt, making it ride up, exposing a flash of taught, tanned stomach.

"Enjoying the view?"

Draco tore his gaze away from Potter's stomach to glare up at Blaise. The Malfoy death glare never _had_ worked on Blaise, but right now Draco was willing to give it another try. Blaise laughed.

"Don't even try it Draco." He paused, looking over at Potter. "That boy really knows how to dance."

Draco mentally agreed wholeheartedly with Blaise, though he said nothing. Unwillingly, he found his gaze returning to Potter, who had now reached the chorus and was really going for it.

The song had started off as a rap but the chorus had slightly more of a tune to it, which Potter sang as if he were _trying_ to turn Draco on. And the words...

"You and me baby ain't nothing but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the discovery channel."

Draco wasn't sure what the 'discovery channel' was, but he knew enough to catch the gist of the line.

An image flashed across his mind of Potter on all fours, Draco thrusting into him from behind. And Draco let out a soft moan.

"What was that?"

Draco blushed. Damn Blaise for having such good hearing. In fact damn him just for still being there.

"Bugger off, Zabini."

Blaise chuckled. "Gladly."

And with one final smirk, Blaise sauntered off towards a group of Ravenclaw's collected around the snack table.

(AN: The song Harry performs is 'The bad touch' by The Bloodhound Gang)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The third of seven chapters. In which Draco begins to realize that Harry is too sexy for his shirt.

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 3:

The next few hours passed in a relative blur. There were drinks (many of them), songs (again many, though not quite as enjoyable as the alcohol, particularly as Pansy had managed to obtain the microphone not once but _twice_ more) and snogging (though unfortunately not involving Draco). Draco kept to himself, leaving his corner only for much needed trips to the bar (and on occasion the bathroom).

It was beginning to get late. And Draco realised (partly from the overuse of brackets) that he had, in a way, not attended the party after all. The vast majority of the evening had been spent in observation (mostly of Potter, but that was neither here nor there). And excepting Blaise, no one had bothered him.

Also, Draco was drunk. He knew this for several reasons. First, the room was spinning, and he was pretty certain it hadn't been doing that when he arrived. Second he knew his drink count was in the double figures, and that was just the punch. It didn't include the stolen bottle of firewhiskey he was currently swigging from. Third, he was staring unashamedly at Potter. And he definitely hadn't been doing that earlier. Or at least, not quite so unsubtly as he was now. And fourth, he didn't _care_ that he was staring at Potter. He didn't even care that he was achingly _hard_ and staring at Potter.

It was also getting late. Draco knew _this_ because the number of couples shamelessly groping each other was now greater than the number of people who were still couple-less. That and the fact that Blaise was, once again, snogging a girl. Which he only ever did when he was very, very drunk. (As such, it was the third time this week, and Draco was beginning to wonder if Blaise was actually straight).

So, all things considered; on the positive side, Blaise was probably even drunker than Draco. On the negative; at least Blaise would be getting some tonight while Draco was, well, not. He glared down at his right hand. Not that it was his hand's fault of course. And he would be somewhat lost without his hand later, if the erection he was currently sporting was anything to go by. He had actually lifted his left hand to stroke his right in apology before he realised what he was doing. Maybe he was drunker than Blaise after all. Maybe _he_ should find a girl.

Maybe not. Draco looked up at Potter again, who was standing by the karaoke stand again, mic in hand, waiting for a song to start. No, he was not that desperate.

"I'm too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love, love's going to leave me…"

Draco's mouth fell open as Potter began singing, his voice dripping sex. Ok, so maybe he was that desperate. He would start hunting for a girl just as soon as Potter finished singing.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt…"

Draco fell off his chair. Potter was _stripping_. And from the looks of things, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Draco didn't even bother trying to climb back onto his seat. He just sat on the floor, whiskey bottle forgotten in his hand as Potter undid the few buttons of his shirt, one by one. Draco watched fixated as Potter strutted across the room to the chorus, stopping at one end of the room to strike a pose. Letting his shirt fall slightly, baring one of his shoulders.

By now, he had an audience. Even some of the snogging couples had broken apart to watch Potter's performance.

"I shake my little tush on the catwalk."

A few people screamed as Potter turned, strutting to the other end of the room and striking another pose. Draco wasn't really surprised by this reaction when Potter acted out the lyrics at the end of his imaginary catwalk. Turned out those trousers really were as tight as they looked.

The song came to an end much more quickly than Draco was expecting. And for his finale, Potter removed his shirt completely, twirling it above his head before letting it fly. A few girls jumped to catch it, but it flew over their heads and landed right in Draco's outstretched hand.

Draco stared dumbly at the material for a second, noting that it still retained some of the warmth from Potter's body. Then it clicked that as he was holding Potter's shirt, which would mean Potter was now shirt_less_. His eyes skipped back to Potter, raking over the Gryffindor's naked chest. Potter really was magnificent. And he was… looking straight at Draco, an amused expression on his face. Draco coloured, quickly looking away.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was still on the floor and with as much dignity as he could muster in his drunken state; Draco pulled himself to his feet and hurried towards the portrait hole. Fortunately, no one stopped him, and seconds later he was outside in the cool air of the dark corridor.

Draco walked unsteadily down the hallway. One hand trailed against the wall, while the other kept a firm grip on Potter's shirt. He had lost his firewhiskey somewhere between the Gryffindor common room and the second floor, and he was determined to keep hold of Potter's shirt at all costs. He was very unwilling to examine exactly why he was so keen to hold onto the sheer bit of black fabric, but nonetheless, he was not prepared to part with it.

Deciding to take a short cut back to the Slytherin dorms, Draco took a rarely used passageway behind one of the tapestries. He was about halfway down the narrow corridor when he turned a corner to find a still shirtless Potter leaning against the wall. Draco stopped dead.

"What do you want Potter?" Draco slurred, leaning unsteadily against the wall.

"You've still got my shirt." Potter looked amused.

"Oh." Draco looked from the topless Potter to the fabric in his hand and back again.

"Any chance I can have it back?"

Draco considered, his eyes raking Potter's naked chest. "No."

Potter laughed, the sound echoing loudly in the silent passageway.

"Well in that case I suppose you'll have to keep it won't you?"

Draco nodded, not quite catching the amused sarcasm in Potter's voice.

"Though you know, Malfoy…"

Draco shivered at the way Potter said his name.

"If you get to keep my shirt. I think I should have yours."

As he spoke, Potter moved forward closing in on Draco. Draco froze, not sure whether to turn and run or to stand his ground.

Potter took the decision out of his hands. Backing him against a wall, Potter pressed his lower body against Draco's effectively trapping him. His fingers drifted lightly over Draco's chest before beginning to undo the buttons of Draco's shirt.

Draco gasped, intensely aware that Potter was undressing him, yet unsure how he felt about this knowledge. He was still pondering this when Potter undid the last button and began pushing Draco's shirt off his shoulders. Draco did nothing to help, although he didn't exactly _stop_ Potter either.

Which was how Draco found himself half naked while Potter slipped his arms into Draco's shirt. Potter fastened no more than one or two buttons before returning his hands to Draco's, now bare, chest.

Draco shuddered involuntarily at the touch, though he put it down to the chill of the corridor. Potter touching him did not feel good. Of course it didn't. It felt horrible. And Draco would push him away, just as soon as he could get his arms to work. He would!

Draco was getting somewhat delirious. And it was all Potter's fault. It was always Potter's fault. And now Potter had stolen his shirt and Draco was going to catch pneumonia and die and then Potter would see.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was that Potter would see, but that didn't matter. Because Potter was suddenly much closer than he had been before. And if Draco just leaned forward a tiny bit, his lips would touch Potter's and that would be… it would be… it…

Draco felt himself rocking forward. His lips were a hairsbreadth from Potter's. Potter smiled slightly, this time a smile of pleasure rather than amusement. And Draco liked that smile. Only then Potter stepped back and walked away.

It would have been ghastly. Disgusting. Vile. Horrific. Of course it would have. Kissing Potter would have been sickening. Only a traitorous voice inside Draco (which, incidentally, sounded an awful lot like Blaise) said different. That voice said it would have been wonderful, fantastic, amazing, incredible, mind-blowing, and that was quite enough adjectives for one thought process thank you very much.

Draco shivered and only then did he recall that he was standing shirtless in a deserted hallway. Looking down, he saw Potter's shirt still clutched in his hand and in his drunken state, it occurred to him that the only sensible course of action was to put Potter's shirt on. After all, Potter had said it was warm. And Draco really didn't want to catch a cold. A red nose was very unbecoming.

Slipping his arms into the sleeves, Draco fastened the buttons (_he_ knew how to dress himself, even when drunk, unlike _some_ people) before finally resuming his journey back to the common room. Finally clambering through the entrance, all form of dignity forgotten, Draco waved distractedly at the few remaining students before climbing the stairs to his dorm.

By this time Draco was way too far-gone to notice the chorus of whispers that struck up at his appearance. Nor to notice what they were saying. In his drunken oblivion, Draco had failed to realise that Potter's shirt had caused a stir with more people than just himself. And Draco's appearance wearing said shirt was not something to be ignored. By the time Draco had reached his dorm, the rumours were already flying.

But, Draco knew none of this as he climbed on to his bed, pulling the curtains closed around him and whispering a silencing spell. Laying back on top of the sheets, Draco ran his fingers across his chest, mirroring the way Potter had touched him earlier. Only instead of reaching for the buttons of his (well, Potter's) shirt, he reached for his belt buckle. It was time for the promised date with his right hand. And if he kept Potter's shirt on, it was only because he was too tired to get undressed. And nothing at all to do with the light scent of Potter that still clung to the soft fabric.

(AN: Harry's second performance of the night is 'I'm too sexy' by Right Said Fred)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The fourth of seven chapters. In which Draco returns his attention to the present – the Slytherin party.

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 4:

And so Draco found himself at the final house party of the year; Slytherin's, hounded by rumours that he had shagged Harry Potter after the Gryffindor party two nights previous. The details varied drastically, from who had fucked whom, to where, when and how.

Blaise's favourite version of the story was the one in which Potter had cornered Draco in a deserted corridor after the party. And, after stripping Draco naked, Potter had then proceeded to conjure a leather collar, bearing the words "This slave is the sole property of Harry James Potter" which he had fastened around Draco's neck. Apparently Draco had then begged his 'master' to take him, until, of course, the wonderful Potter had taken pity on him and shagged Draco so hard he couldn't walk the following morning.

It did not help that this came uncomfortably near to the truth (well, the cornering in the corridor part, at least and, Draco supposed, _part_ of the stripping. And Draco had only been unable to walk because he was so horrifically hung-over and out of potion.) And not least because if Draco had had his way that night, the rumour would have been true, well bits of it. Particularly the shagging part and definitely _not _the collar part. Though of course he was glad nothing had happened. Because he couldn't be blamed for wanting _anyone_ when he was that drunk and horny.

Potter had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could have been anybody and Draco would have acted the same; man, woman, student, professor, dark lord. Well maybe not dark lord. Draco liked his conquests to at least have the basic set of facial features; eyes, mouth, _nose_. But that was entirely beside the point. He had not wanted Potter, just an alternative to his hand. And even if he _had_ wanted Potter, he would never have (Draco shuddered mentally) …_bottomed_.

But he _hadn't_ wanted Potter. Draco realised belatedly that he was repeating himself. And it wasn't even a subject that interested him. Potter was entirely irrelevant. He was… Holy fucking Merlin! Draco gaped at the doorway where Potter had (finally) appeared. He was… wearing leather trousers.

Draco stared unabashed at the Adonis before him. Potter's trousers weren't just leather. They were _tight _leather. The kind of tight leather that had to be magically enhanced just for him to get _into_ the things. And the way they clung…

Draco flushed hotly, taking a long swallow of his drink in an attempt to cool himself down. At least there would be no karaoke at this party. If Potter removed his top this time… Draco shuddered. Not that the fitted black vest Potter wore hid a huge amount, but still.

Draco watched as Potter wandered over to greet his friends before turning and heading for the bar. And Draco definitely did not watch the way Potter's arse looked as he moved in those trousers. Absolutely not. Because it was Potter and, well...

"Nice aren't they?"

Draco jumped at the sound of Blaise's voice. He didn't even bother to try and hide the fact, knowing Blaise would see straight through him anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Blaise laughed. "Of course you don't. And since you clearly have no interest in Potter, you won't mind if I go over there and offer my services for later tonight."

When Draco looked puzzled, Blaise clarified with a smirk.

"Potter might have some trouble getting out of those trousers. It would only be polite for me to offer my..." Blaise licked his lips hungrily, "_Assistance_."

Draco choked on his drink as Blaise wandered off towards the table where Potter stood. Unwillingly, Draco allowed his gaze once more to drop to Potter's leather clad arse. It truly was a magnificent sight to behold. The leather clung so tightly that it was obvious Potter couldn't possibly be wearing pants. And that thought alone sent a shiver down Draco's spine. Turning away from the all too tempting sight, Draco took another sip of his cocktail.

A little while later, Pansy drifted over to sit on one of the chairs near Draco. She was soon followed by Neville and a bunch of Gryffindors. Draco sipped his drink, trying to ignore the fact that Potter and his trousers were now less than ten feet away from him.

"Fancy a game of 'Truth of Dare', Draco?" Pansy asked sweetly.

Draco shook his head vehemently. There was no way he was playing. It wasn't that he was afraid, of course. He just felt that the veritaserum-laced shots could not possibly lead to anything good.

"Scared Malfoy?"

Potter's voice broke through Draco's thoughts.

"You wish."

The words were out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. Draco glared.

"Then play." Potter smirked. "I _dare_ you."

"Fine."

Draco mentally began composing a list of people he needed to curse. Potter, of course, Blaise, Potter again, Pansy, Potter again. He scowled. Well he'd just have to stick with dares. Nothing too incriminating could come out of that. At least nothing that couldn't be blamed on alcohol and other people.

A few more people came over to join their group and someone produced a half empty bottle of firewhiskey and a vial of heavily diluted veritaserum (the effects of which would only last for five minutes). Pansy took charge, adding the potion to the alcohol, before pouring out shots for each of the players. The empty bottle, she placed on the floor in the middle of the circle.

"Rules:" She stated calmly "A truth is a truth. Drink your shot and answer it as such." She giggled "As if you have a choice! And a dare is a dare. Which means action people. 'I dare you to answer a question' is NOT a dare. Try it at your peril. The forfeits will be very..." She paused once more for effect, "Slytherin!"

A few people laughed, whilst many of those acquainted with Slytherin forfeits trembled slightly. Few had forgotten the last forfeit to be performed at a Slytherin party. It had involved nudity, handcuffs, the potions classroom first thing Monday morning and ultimately a months worth of detention with Snape.

Draco looked round at the circle of people in front of him. It was a relatively mixed group, consisting of members from all four houses. Unsurprisingly the larger numbers were from Slytherin and Gryffindor – The cunning and the brave. Obviously the clever knew better than to play what was ultimately a very stupid game, while the loyal were, well, too loyal to risk spilling a secret.

The golden trio were sat opposite him on one of the larger sofas. Finnegan and Thomas were squeezed into an oversized armchair next to them, while Longbottom was perched on the arm of the chair occupied by Pansy. Beside her, sat the Slytherins (amongst them; Daphne, Greg, Theo and Mille, who was sat on the footstool beside Draco). On the Gryffindor's other side were a couple of Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs and finally, Blaise who was seated on Draco's sofa.

Draco was somewhat amused to note that despite the last week of inter-house parties, the groups still stuck to themselves. He was half tempted to go and sit himself right in the middle of the golden trio, just to spice things up a bit. But it occurred to him that people might take that the wrong way. And besides, Draco had a much better view of Potter from here. Not that he was looking. Or even wanted to look. Of course not.

Fortunately, Draco was distracted from his thoughts by Pansy who sent a spell flying at the bottle, causing it to spin alarmingly fast. Draco mentally shook his head at her show-off antics.

The bottle finally slowed to a halt, pointing at the dark haired Hufflepuff who had so enjoyed Potter's company at the Ravenclaw party.

Dutifully, Pansy asked "Truth or dare?"

The Hufflepuff requested a truth and was promptly asked whether he had managed to get Potter into bed. Whilst Potter was not exactly discreet with his (many) conquests, he was also not a total slut. Getting Potter past a quick grope and actually into bed was not an easy task, though many had tried. Many had also lied about it, only to be embarrassed horribly when the truth inevitably came out. The Hufflepuff in question had kept relatively tight lipped about things. Which of course led most people to believe he had been unsuccessful. But the lack of evidence was somewhat unsettling. (Incidentally, the fact that half the school appeared to believe Draco had shagged Potter was rather flattering, but irrelevant, since nothing of the sort had happened.)

Draco found himself holding his breath as he waited for the answer to Pansy's question, releasing it in a soft puff when the Hufflepuff confirmed, rather regretfully, that he had not. Draco was just beginning to relax, pointedly ignoring the amused grin he was receiving from Blaise, when the Hufflepuff spoke up again.

"But there's always tonight!"

With a wink at Potter, the Hufflepuff leaned forward and spun the bottle. Draco was too busy glaring to notice who the bottle landed on, or what option he chose. But the question quickly drew him back to the present.

"So, is Harry really as good with his mouth as he appears?"

Draco's gaze flew from the object of the question (Justin Finch-Fletchley) to the subject. Potter seemed rather relaxed considering the fact that half their year were about to hear how talented he was at giving blow-jobs. He must be pretty confident, Draco realised, just as Finch-Fletchley answered in the affirmative.

There was a collective swoon from half the circle (surprisingly including some of the girls) and Draco was relieved to realise he had not made a sound. He was, however, still watching Potter for a reaction and at that moment, Potter looked up, catching Draco's gaze. His lips curved upwards into a smile that seemed almost... predatory. Draco gulped and quickly looked away.

The bottle was spun again and landed on Granger who also requested a truth. (Draco was beginning to wonder if anyone was going to be interesting enough to choose 'dare'.) She was asked if she had ever slept with Krum, much to the obvious annoyance of Weasley. Granger laughingly responded that she had dated him at the tender age of fourteen and therefore had not. The brief reminder that she had seen him at Bill and Fleur's wedding (which provoked an audible growl from Weasley) was also met with a giggle. When exactly was she supposed to have had time?

The question was dropped (obviously Granger had not had the sense to chase the filthy rich quidditch star instead of the skint Weasel she was now pacifying) and Granger reached for the bottle.

Draco watched the bottle spin, not really interested in where it might stop. He was just about to order someone to fetch him a drink when the bottle stopped, pointing straight at Potter. Forgetting his desire to obtain another beverage, Draco returned his gaze to the Gryffindor sitting opposite him, waiting for Potter to make his choice.

"Dare."

There was a collective 'ooh' as everyone leaned forward, wondering what Potter might be asked to do. Draco was less intrigued. What were the chances that Potter's best friend would ask him to do anything even remotely interesting? Draco leaned back against the sofa as Granger pondered her options.

"I dare you to kiss Malfoy."

Draco froze. He couldn't possibly have heard right. He looked around the circle to find everyone staring at him. His eyes shot towards Potter only to find the Gryffindor also watching him, a hungry look in his eyes.

Potter said nothing, but got slowly to his feet, his gaze never leaving Draco's face as he prowled towards him. Draco's whole world narrowed to encompass Potter and nothing else. His fellow class mates disappeared, the music was silenced. He didn't even notice that the whole room had stopped to watch what was occurring between the two ex-nemeses. All he could see was Potter; all he could hear was the sound of his own harsh breathing.

Potter stopped when he reached the sofa, dropping down to kneel in front of Draco.

"Come here."

Potter's voice was low and commanding. Draco obeyed without hesitation, sliding forward in his seat until his face was less than six inches from Potter's. Draco's heart pounded as the Gryffindor leaned forwards, hooking his fingers behind Draco's neck and drawing him still closer. Draco could feel the warmth of Potter's breath ghosting over his mouth and unconsciously, Draco flicked out his tongue to moisten his suddenly dry lips.

The two boys were so close that Draco's tongue inadvertently flicked lightly over Potter's lips, causing the Gryffindor's eyes to darken almost dangerously. Draco shuddered at the expression that crossed Potter's face.

For a long moment they stared at each other, eyes locked, until finally, Potter leaned forward closing the gap between them.

Potter's lips were warm and firm against Draco's and they felt incredible. Unable to suppress a sigh of contentment, Draco's lips parted. Instantly, Potter took advantage. Thrusting his tongue into Draco's mouth, Potter tilted his head, deepening the kiss. His fingers on the back of Draco's neck drew circles of fire as he ravaged Draco's mouth, sucking, biting, licking... Draco's hands rose involuntarily to clutch at Potter's (oh so soft) hair, pulling the other boy closer, desperate not to let the kiss end.

Draco had never been kissed like this before, he was sure of it. It seemed Potter really did have a talented mouth. And that notion sent his thoughts spiralling downwards, unleashing a wave of images. Suddenly Draco wanted to know exactly how it would feel for Potter to use those lips elsewhere. He wished they were somewhere private so that he could find out.

The recollection that they were not alone, that the nosy eyes of their classmates were watching every move, was like a bucket of cold water over Draco's head. Dragging his fingers from Potter's hair, Draco pulled back, tearing his mouth from the Gryffindor's.

"That was _hot_."

Pansy's somewhat glazed eyes flicked from Draco to Potter and back again. Granger nodded vehemently in agreement and was soon joined by a number of others, all of whom seemed slightly dazed and out of breath.

In a desperate attempt to appear unaffected, Draco slid back in his chair, forcing his features into his trademark smirk. Fortunately, few people were alert enough to notice the way Draco's hand trembled slightly as he reached up to smooth his tousled hair.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The fifth of seven chapters. In which Draco wonders if the bottle has been rigged.

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 5:

The game continued in much the same way, though Draco found it much harder to pay attention. He found out who Hannah Abbott fancied and then promptly forgot. He found out far more than he ever wanted to know about Pansy and Longbottom's apparently rather kinky sex life. He watched disinterestedly as one of the Ravenclaws performed a strip tease. And in horror as Granger performed a lap dance for Weasley.

He listened impassively as Blaise was asked once and for all if he was gay, straight or bi. And rolled his eyes when Blaise then received an earful from the girl he had shagged after the Gryffindor party, who had thought he was bi at the very least.

He watched the bottle slow its spin until it finally stopped, pointing at... him. Draco's heart sank. Of all the people to ask him the dreaded 'truth or dare' why did it have to be Blaise?

Sticking to his earlier resolution, (there was no way he would allow Blaise to ask him point blank if he wanted Potter. Because even though he _clearly_ didn't (mind-blowing kiss disregarded), it was still never a good idea to mix veritaserum with alcohol. Sometimes you _believed_ things to be true that simply weren't.) Draco requested a dare.

Blaise grinned at him, his eyes sparkling with wicked intent.

"Show us your collar, Draco!"

Draco glared at his now ex-friend. What the hell was Blaise trying to pull?

"There. Is. No. Damn. Collar." It was hard to speak around his gritted teeth.

"Aww it's alright Draco, sweetie. You can show your friends your pretty new collar."

Draco's jaw dropped as he looked across the circle at Potter. The Gryffindor was the picture of innocence (skin-tight leather notwithstanding). He was smiling kindly at Draco as if trying to be… supportive? Draco opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was totally and utterly speechless.

"Really baby, its ok. Show them."

With a feeling of rising dread, Draco felt a strange warming sensation surround his neck. Horrified, his hand flew to his throat, which was now circled with a band of what was unmistakably leather. Potter smirked.

Desperately, Draco reached for the clasp, determined to remove the infernal thing immediately. But his fingers met the cold metal of the lock and his heart plummeted.

"Come on then Draco, let's see!"

And before Draco could do anything to stop him, Blaise had grabbed a fistful of Draco's hair and yanked his head backwards, revealing the strip of leather to the entire circle of fascinated students.

"What does it say?"

Draco's eyes fluttered shut in horror as Pansy's words filtered through. Potter couldn't have done this to him. He wouldn't have. They were... well not friends exactly, but they weren't enemies any more.

"'Property of Harry Potter'!"

Blaise declared victoriously, finally releasing his grip on Draco's hair. A whoop of hilarity and general amusement rose up from the gathered students. Draco wanted nothing more than for the sofa to open up and swallow him whole. He had always known this was a stupid game and guaranteed to end badly. And what was worse, he couldn't even escape. Potter had humiliated him, but damn it if Draco was going to let him win. With a sneer, Draco leaned forward and spun the bottle.

With a sense of inevitability, Draco watched as the bottle came to a halt pointing straight at Potter. The Gryffindor looked him straight in the eye as he requested a dare and Draco found himself repressing a shudder at the intensity of that gaze. Raking his brain, Draco tried to come up with a dare that would humiliate Potter without reflecting badly on Draco. Telling Potter to strip was out of the question – everyone (mostly meaning Blaise and probably Pansy) would assume it was because Draco _wanted_ to see Potter strip. Which he didn't, obviously. (Draco ignored the voice in his head telling him he was not only repeating himself (again) but also, most probably, in denial.)

Finally, Draco was struck with inspiration.

"Sing."

"Sing what?" Potter waited for clarification.

Draco paused for effect.

"Barbie Girl."

The muggleborns in the circle laughed while the purebloods looked on in confusion. Granger gave Draco an odd look as if asking how _he_ knew a muggle song. But a moment later, Potter was on his feet, a microphone in his hand and backing music provided by an odd little black box he had conjured out of thin air.

"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world..."

Potter began singing in a falsetto. He happily ignored the laughing students, instead throwing everything he had into the performance, dancing and singing the same way he had during his karaoke stint two nights earlier. Potter also admirably handled the fact that the song was really a duet, switching easily between his falsetto and a deepened version of his normal voice.

As Draco watched, his certainty of Potter's humiliation sank rapidly. Potter was _enjoying_ himself. And from the looks of things, so was everyone else. The focus of their amusement had shifted. They were no longer laughing _at_ Potter, but with him. Potter was miming along to the lyrics and he should have looked stupid, but somehow he managed to look sexy and wanton.

As Potter finished his song, Draco sulked quietly in his chair, his mind working furiously to find a way to humiliate Potter once and for all. He was so distracted that it took him a second to realise that not only had Potter finished singing, he had returned to his seat and spun the bottle. Which had stopped, pointing directly at Draco.

Draco groaned mentally, half convinced someone had enchanted the bottle to flit between he and Potter exclusively. But why would anyone want that? He was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of Potter's voice.

"Truth of dare, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't hesitate, "Dare."

Potter paused just long enough to be sure he had Draco's undivided attention and then,

"I dare you to wear that collar for the rest of term."

Draco's eyes widened at the almost wicked look that accompanied these words. He glared, trying to keep his rising temper under control.

"It's not like I have much of a choice, do I Potter?"

He almost spat the last word of his sentence. How could he possibly have thought that Potter was hot? He was nothing more than an attention seeking, washed up hero. Clamping down on his fury, Draco spun the bottle, hardly even waiting for it to stop before firing the question back at Potter.

Potter asked for a dare and Draco responded gladly, not missing a beat.

"Fake an orgasm."

A few people looked at Draco in shock but Potter merely grinned, relaxing back in his chair before beginning.

He started quietly, just panting softly, releasing the occasional gasp. The entire circle watched spellbound as Potter began speaking.

"Yes, oh... yesssss. Just like that. Mmmm, feels so good."

Potter moaned again and Draco bit his lip to stop an answering moan from escaping him. Clearly alcohol and good ideas did _not _go hand in hand. How could Draco have possibly thought this was a good idea? The noises Potter was making... never mind the way he looked, lips parted, face slightly flushed, chest heaving... Draco swallowed nervously as Potter grew louder, his movements more pronounced.

"Oh Merlin... yesss, right there... harder..."

Potter was really panting now, sucking in lungfulls of air.

"Faster... please... yessss... Merlin..."

It was clear Potter was reaching his finale. His head was tipped back, his whole body shuddering with the force of his breathing. His speech now was no more than random words broken by gasps and moans.

Draco was riveted. He had never seen anything so hot as Potter at that moment. And he was including Potter's performances both from tonight and the previous parties. He was even including the sight of Potter's arse in those trousers. A little voice inside him tried to remind him that none of those things were supposed to be hot, but by now he was too far gone to listen to it. Potter was hot. He was hot when he sang, hot when he danced, hot when he wore ridiculously tight leather trousers and above all, hot when he came (faking or otherwise).

At that moment, Potter's head snapped forwards, his eyes opening to lock on Draco's gaze. Draco's stomach flipped. The emerald irises were narrowed to thin rings around Potter's pupils making his eyes look almost black. And the expression of unadulterated need on his face left Draco reeling.

"Yesssss... Fuck... I'm going to..." Potter cried almost desperately, gaze still locked on Draco's face.

"Fuck... Malfoy..."

Draco almost fell out of his seat. Potter can't have just said what he though he'd said. But the staring gaze of his classmates assured him that his ears were not deceiving him.

Draco continued to stare at Potter as the Gryffindor grinned cheekily and reached for the bottle on the floor in front of him. His heart was still pounding, his erection pressing uncomfortably against the front of his trousers (he was glad his un-tucked shirt hid the evidence of his arousal from prying eyes).

Suddenly furious, Draco dropped Potter's gaze, glaring angrily at the spinning bottle. How dared Potter make fun of him like that? Just because Draco was drunk and maybe a little horny. Well Potter would pay. Maybe not now, (Draco couldn't deny his Slytherin cunning was somewhat the worse for wear this evening) but soon.

Draco was glaring so hard at the bottle that he couldn't miss the subtle spell that Pansy cast at the spinning glass. Glancing up he caught her eye briefly before looking away, pretending he had seen nothing. It was for the best. After all, it was most likely going to spare Draco from further embarrassment. And, had the pattern continued... well Draco was rather too likely to find himself daring Potter to a duel. Well that or a shag. And neither of those things sounded like a good idea. Well the shag did, but he was drunk and his judgment couldn't be trusted.

The bottle stopped, pointing unsurprisingly at Pansy, who sat back with a smile, waiting for Potter to give her a dare.

"Snog Hermione." Potter grinned, ignoring the muffled protests from Longbottom and Weasley.

Draco was somewhat surprised that Granger didn't launch into a torrent of complaints. Several minutes later, however, Draco realised why. The look on Weasley's face was priceless. Draco had never really understood the appeal of watching two girls kiss, even to straight guys, but still. He had a sneaking suspicion that Granger was in for a wild night (not that he wanted to think about that. Ever).

Shifting his gaze back to Pansy, Draco watched as his friend reached once more for the bottle and set it spinning. From the look on Longbottom's face Pansy was in for a good spanking later, a thought Draco wished had never crossed his mind. He fervently wished that he had never been told about Longbottom's sex life.

The bottle came to a stop, yet again, pointing straight at Draco. And he almost cried out in frustration. His head was a mess. He had been yo-yoing between blind fury and desperate lust for the last thirty minutes and if he didn't get away soon his usually rigid control was going to snap. What worried him most was that he had no idea what he would do. There was an equal chance of him jumping Potter as punching him and neither of those scenarios could end well.

"Swap shirts with Potter." Pansy dared Draco, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Both Draco and Potter stared at her in surprise. Draco was beginning to think there was some evil plan at work. First Granger, then Pansy… but a dare was a dare. He would not back out.

With a shrug, Potter began pulling his vest over his head and, not to be outdone, Draco began removing his own shirt. At exactly the same time, the boys pulled their tops off and threw them across the circle. As a result, the bits of material flew straight into each other, tangling together and landing in a monochrome heap atop the empty firewhiskey bottle.

For a moment no one moved. Then Pansy flicked her wand and the shirts disappeared. Both boys gaped at her, along with half the circle (those who were not using the opportunity to ogle the now topless Draco, Potter or both).

Draco was the first of the two to move, leaning forward to spin the bottle. As he waited for it to stop, he carefully avoided looking at Potter. He had not forgotten his earlier thought that a shirtless Harry dressed in _those_ trousers could not lead to good things. And in his current state, Draco honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the temptation.

Sitting back, Draco waited for the bottle to come to a halt. It stopped (Draco almost sighed in relief) on one of the Ravenclaw's who requested a truth. Draco had absolutely no interest in what the girl had to hide, but in the interest of keeping up appearances, he paused to consider possible questions. He was half tempted to ask who she fancied, just to have done with it, but the way she was staring at Potter quite clearly answered that question. Finally he posed,

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

The girl's face went white, then red as she blushed furiously.

"I..." She stammered staring horrified at... Goyle?! "I kissed Greg."

For a moment everyone was silent wondering why this was such a terrible thing. Greg looked somewhat baffled and Draco briefly wondered if Greg was really that bad, when there was a shriek.

"How could you?!" Everyone's gaze shifted from Greg to the second female Ravenclaw in their little group. "You knew how I felt about him! You _knew_!"

"I'm sorry! I was drunk. I didn't mean to. I'd never..."

As the girls continued to argue, Draco lost interest, turning his attention to the boy in question. Greg was watching the proceedings with a puzzled expression, as if he couldn't quite fathom how two girls could be fighting over him.

Realising that now was Draco's best chance of escape, he got quickly to his feet. With a whispered "good on you" to Greg, Draco slipped away from the circle and down the corridor to his dorm.

(AN: The song Harry sings is 'Barbie Girl' by Aqua. Also, the bottle _was_ rigged... by me. As a plot device. *grins*)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The sixth of seven chapters. In which slash occurs. A lot of slash. (Chapter 7 will be uploaded at the same time as this one as its more of an epilogue and tying up of loose ends than a proper chapter.)

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 6:

Draco walked quickly down the dark corridor resisting the temptation to bash his head against a wall in frustration. It just wasn't worth the pain. Or the disfigurement. He was absolutely furious, though he had lost track of exactly who he was angry with. Blaise, obviously. His friend was going to pay. It was one thing making nasty comments in private, but humiliating him like that in front of their classmates... Draco bit back a growl. And pulling his hair. The growl escaped this time, echoing quietly in the deserted passageway. Blaise was definitely going to pay. (Switching his shampoo for peroxide would definitely be a good start. Possibly followed by a shredding charm on Blaise's entire wardrobe. Draco would have to consider his options.)

And then there was Potter. Stupid, irritating, infuriating Potter. Who looked way too good in leather. And sounded so fucking _hot _when he... Draco actually stopped walking as his thoughts stumbled to a shuddering halt. The _sounds_ Potter had made... the expression on his face... the look in his eyes as he stared at Draco.

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts and forced himself to continue walking. Potter was a conniving, manipulative _wanker_ (who apparently should have been in Slytherin). And the collar around Draco's neck should be more than enough to remind him of that. Potter held no appeal for him whatsoever.

He had almost reached his dorm when Potter's voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks. Of course it had been too much to hope for an unnoticed escape. Turning around, Draco waited until Potter caught up with him. There had already been enough witnesses to his humiliation without a shouting match in the corridor.

Draco tried not to notice the way Potter's muscles moved when he walked, but it was hard... no, _difficult _(not hard, nothing was hard in the slightest) not to. The Gryffindor looked even more luscious in those fucking trousers and _nothing_ else (Draco didn't stop to wonder where Potter's socks and shoes had vanished to) than Draco had anticipated. He realised he was almost drooling and snapped his gaze up to Potter's face.

Potter stopped less than a foot away from him, and Draco wished he wasn't quite so _aware_ of this fact. With effort, Draco forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand, and the fury that hadn't quite left him, despite Potter's near nakedness. Draco took a step closer both in an attempt to intimidate the Gryffindor as well as to prove he was unaffected by Potter's proximity.

"Get this thing off me, Potter."

Draco kept his voice low, not wishing to be overheard, but he let the steel of his tone seep through into his words.

Potter said nothing and Draco was suddenly aware that they were alone once more in a darkened passageway. Only this time Draco knew what Potter would taste like if he leaned forward. Knew how it would feel to brush those lips with his own. Knew how it would feel to run his fingers through that unexpectedly soft hair.

When Potter's lips met his, Draco honestly didn't know who had closed the gap between them. But he didn't care, just so long as those lips stayed locked on his.

Draco's fingers sought Potter's hair, while Potter's arms wrapped around him, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Draco moaned as Potter's naked chest came into contact with his own. The Gryffindor's skin was hot and firm. It felt magnificent and Draco's fingers dropped to caress Potter's back and shoulders.

Potter shifted slightly at this new touch and his erection pressed against Draco's hip through those delectably tight leather trousers. The recollection of Potter's outfit reminded Draco of the way Potter's arse had looked in them and he immediately dropped his hands to cup the firm globes of Potter's behind.

In response, Potter tore his lips from Draco's only to drop his head, kissing a trail of fire across Draco's throat. The move seemed to remind him of something because he moved to Draco's ear, his hot breath tickling the shell as he spoke.

"No chance, Malfoy. You're MINE."

Draco had no idea what Potter was talking about, but he managed to register that Potter had claimed him. He thought he should be more bothered by that than he was, but then Potter found his lips again and Draco forgot to care.

Draco's back hit the cold wall as Potter shoved him backwards. The rough stone bit into the sensitive skin of his bare back but Draco didn't care. Just so long as Potter continued to kiss him.

Almost as if he had heard Draco's thoughts and was determined to irritate him, Potter again drew his lips away from Draco's, chuckling at the low sound of frustration Draco couldn't hide.

"Patience..." Potter whispered in Draco's ear before dipping his head to nibble softly at the sensitive skin of Draco's neck.

Draco bit hard on his lip to stop himself from moaning, but suddenly Potter was on his knees, one hand cupping Draco through the fabric of his trousers and Draco couldn't help himself.

Thrusting into Potter's grasp, Draco's head fell back against the wall, his eyes drifting shut, his lips parting on a sigh. He didn't even notice Potter unzipping his trousers until Potter's hand on his naked flesh startled a gasp out of him.

With effort, Draco lifted his head, opening his eyes to look down at Potter's kneeling form. Potter's hand was slowly fisting Draco's erection, but his gaze was locked on Draco's face. When their eyes met, Potter smirked at him and Draco had to bite back a groan.

There was something incredibly lascivious about Potter in that position. And Draco was almost expecting it when Potter suddenly lunged forward, swallowing Draco whole. Almost.

Draco stuffed his fist into his mouth to muffle the scream of pleasure provoked by Potter's hot, wet mouth surrounding him, his head falling back once more. When Potter pulled back to run his tongue over every inch of Draco, the Slytherin bit down hard on his hand to stifle the moan trying to escape him.

Potter had the most talented mouth Draco had ever come across. And he was by no means inexperienced. Draco had probably had more than his fair share of blowjobs in the last year or so, but this... this was something else. _Potter_ was something else.

Unable to resist, Draco forced his head forwards once more. Potter was a sight to behold; half naked with his lips stretched wide around Draco's erection. And then Potter looked up, eyes locking with Draco's and there was nothing he could do. Biting down on his fist so hard that he drew blood, Draco came into Potter's all too willing mouth.

The cold stone wall now seemed like a blessing, both holding him up and cooling his overheated flesh. By the time he came back down to earth, Potter had returned Draco's trousers to their previous state and pulled himself to his feet.

"Come." Harry's authoritative tone left no room for discussion as he turned and began walking towards Draco's room.

'I thought I just did' Draco thought to himself, somewhat hysterically, as he obediently followed Potter down the corridor.

When they reached the door, Potter slipped inside, waiting for Draco to join him before casting a strong locking charm on the door. Draco spared a brief moment to feel sorry for his room mates who would likely have to crash in the common room tonight, before the reality of his situation finally sunk in.

He was alone in his dorm room with Potter. The same Potter who had just given him the best blowjob of his entire life. The Potter who was now backing him towards his bed. (Draco didn't stop to wonder how Potter knew which bed was his. Nor did it occur to him that the bedspread embroidered with the Malfoy crest made it rather obvious).

All too soon, Draco's legs hit the bed and he tumbled gracelessly onto the Egyptian cotton sheets. Potter followed him down, straddling his hips before lowering his head until their lips were almost touching.

"I'm going to fuck you, Draco. So hard that you really _won't _be able to walk tomorrow."

Draco shivered, whether in response to Har – Potter's use of his first name, or his promise, Draco didn't know. But as Potter closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together, Draco decided he didn't care. Tilting his head to the side, Draco parted his lips, urging Potter to deepen the kiss, arching into the Gryffindor as Potter plundered his mouth.

When Potter finally pulled back for air, Draco noticed the unmistakable strip of wood in Potter's hand. For a long moment he stared at it. All manner of things passing through his thoughts.

Draco half wondered if this was all just a complicated practical joke in which Weasley would suddenly jump out with a camera, laughing manically. But the hungry look in Potter's eyes suggested otherwise.

Of course, Potter could just be planning to send a few humiliating and/or painful spells in Draco's general direction while the Slytherin was unprepared and defenceless, but then that didn't sound very Gryffindor like.

Amongst his other thoughts Draco briefly wondered where exactly Potter had been keeping his wand all evening. Those infernal trousers really _had_ left nothing to the imagination. It had been startlingly obvious that Potter wasn't even wearing pants underneath. There was nowhere to hide a wand.

Which brought his thoughts neatly back to Potter's words that had finally had time to sink in. Draco's eyes widened almost comically.

This was by no means the first time Draco had slept with a man, but he had never... bottomed. It had always seemed slightly beneath him (in more ways than one). As if the bottom was the sub in the relationship. And Malfoys were definitely _not _subs.

He also didn't much like the idea of it. It wasn't that his partners didn't enjoy themselves, they did. But Draco had never had any desire to find out for himself why that was.

He was also aware that the first time was... difficult. And he had no intention of trusting the oh-so-important task of preparation to his nemesis. He sighed as Potter dipped his head to nibble at the hollow at Draco's throat. Even if said nemesis wasn't really his nemesis anymore.

The sudden sensation of smooth leather against the lower half of his body re-alerted Draco to the appearance of Potter's wand. Which at this point, was definitely _not_ the wand Draco _wanted_ to be seeing. He growled. Not only was he now naked (he didn't want to think about where Potter had banished his favourite trousers to), he was now a clear step behind Potter who was, if not fully dressed, still in possession of his modesty.

"Why are you still dressed?" Draco muttered huffily, the appeal of the leather trousers fading fast.

"You seemed to rather like these trousers, I didn't want to upset you." Potter grinned teasingly, softening his words with a caress.

"What made you think that?" Draco was definitely in a huff.

Potter's grin turned predatory once more. "Because you couldn't take your eyes off my arse all night."

Draco flushed, knowing that a denial at this point would be futile, but still half tempted to argue back. Potter moved then, his leather clad hip brushing against Draco's newly reawakening erection and suddenly there was nothing against him but the warm pressure of Potter's naked body.

Potter moved again, this time rubbing himself against Draco. The Slytherin arched into him, unable to help the reflexive movement of his body in response. Potter chuckled and Draco almost shoved him off. But then Potter's lips fastened on Draco's and he forgot everything besides the taste of Potter's kisses.

For a long while, they did nothing more than kiss, until Draco began to get frustrated. Impatiently he shifted against Potter, pressing their bodies closer together and grinding against the Gryffindor. Potter's response was to begin an exploration of Draco's body.

Draco lay back, as Potter rolled onto his side, stroking his fingers over every inch of Draco that he could reach, bar the one place Draco wanted his touch most. Finally, Draco snapped.

"Fucking touch me, Potter."

"I am touching you." Another slow swipe of fingers across his inner thigh.

"Harry James Potter. If you don't fuck me right now, I'm going to..." Draco clamped his mouth shut, aghast at what he'd just let slip.

"You're going to what?" Potter's grin had a trace of victory about it, but mostly it was back to predatory.

Draco gulped nervously, keeping his mouth clamped shut for fear of letting slip some other secret he wasn't yet aware of himself. He hadn't even decided if he was going to _let_ Potter fuck him, but clearly his body had decided for him.

Potter's fingers moved higher, up his thigh, spreading Draco's legs as he moved. Anxiously, Draco let him, eyes widening as he heard Potter's whispered lubrication charm.

The feel of Potter's slick finger probing at Draco's entrance almost had him reaching for Potter's wand and hexing the Gryffindor into oblivion. He had to force his muscles to relax.

Potter kissed him then. Softly, his lips moving delicately across Draco's. Instinctively, Draco arched upwards, trying to deepen the kiss and Potter used Draco's moment of distraction to slide his finger into Draco's opening.

Draco gasped at the sensation. Potter clearly knew what he was doing. Not a virgin then. So some of those rumours must have been true, at least. Draco felt an unexpected surge of jealousy at the thought of Har - Potter touching anyone else the way he was touching Draco. Potter was _his_.

When the Gryffindor began to slide a second finger into Draco, he found himself more than willing to accommodate the other boy. As Potter began to slowly stretch him, Draco found his impatience returning. He began to move slightly, impaling himself further on Potter's fingers, revelling in Potter's surprised gasp.

Then, abruptly, Potter's fingers were gone. Draco whimpered at the loss, still unconsciously thrusting his hips shallowly into empty air, searching out Potter's gaze in question. Potter was not gone long.

Without letting his eyes leave Draco's, Potter moved back to cover Draco's body with his own. Potter shifted and Draco realised that there was now something much larger than Potter's fingers pressing at his entrance. Tensing automatically, Draco stared up at Potter, all his nerves from earlier returning in a rush.

Potter kissed him softly, gently caressing his cheek.

"I won't hurt you, just relax. Trust me, Draco."

And unfathomably, Draco did.

His arms wrapped around Potter, pulling the Gryffindor closer before sucking in a deep breath. Finally, Draco forced himself to relax, still refusing to let Potter's gaze drop.

Slowly, Potter began to push into him, taking his time as he buried himself to the hilt inside Draco's welcoming body. He stopped then, letting Draco adjust.

It was uncomfortable more than painful, but not unpleasant. And the simple knowledge that it was _Potter_ inside him made things…

"Merlin, Malfoy… I need to move." Potter's voice was strained as he interrupted Draco's thoughts.

For some reason the return to his surname affected Draco even more than when the Gryffindor had first called him 'Draco'. Draco nodded quickly, unable to deny Har - _Potter_ anything at this point. And then Potter was moving, thrusting into him with a rough growl of possession.

Draco arched under him, watching the emotions play across Potter's face. He could tell Potter was still holding something back. And Draco wasn't having any of that. If he was letting Potter fuck him (and, he supposed, there really was no 'if' about it at this point), he was going to make Potter come undone.

Licking his lips, Draco arched up, whispering into Potter's ear, "Fuck me, Potter... Harry."

Potter groaned in response, before picking up his pace, thrusting into Draco hard and fast. Again Draco arched to meet him and the new angle had Draco seeing stars.

He cried out Harry's name as he wrapped his legs around Harry's waist (he no longer had the concentration to remember to call him Potter), meeting the Gryffindor's thrusts with his own.

"Malfoy... you don't know what you do to me..." Harry bit out desperately.

And that was all it took. As Harry hit that spot inside of him yet again, Draco came apart again, crying Harry's name.

Harry followed a second later, clutching Draco to him like a life vest and screaming his name.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing! I'm just playing with JK Rowling's toys.

Author's note: The last of seven chapters. (A sort of epilogue, I suppose.) In which a few loose ends are tied up and fluffiness abounds.

Please Note: Contains SLASH. Rated M for a reason.

**The Mating Habits of Gryffindors**

Chapter 7:

Sometime later, Draco lay exhausted but sated by Harry's side. Only then did he finally remember what Potter had been referring to when he had spoken earlier outside in the corridor. Absently, Draco's fingers stroked over the leather band.

"I can take that off if you want."

Draco turned at the soft sound of Harry's voice. He considered for a moment before shrugging.

"You never actually agreed to the dare."

He no longer cared about the stupid collar. After all, it was true. He was Harry's; for as long as the Gryffindor wanted him. And he didn't much care if the whole world knew about it. That said, there was no way Draco was the sub in this relationship...

Pensively, Draco eyed Harry, musing on his options. Slowly, he let his lips curve up into a smirk.

"I know that look... What are you planning?"

Draco let his smile widen but said nothing, instead reaching for his wand and giving it a flick. His murmured spell was too soft for Harry to catch, despite their close proximity, but the effect was obvious. And Harry didn't even need to check to know that the collar now encircling his neck was fastened with a lock, just like Draco's.

Smiling, Harry reached for his wand, conjuring a mirror to see the dark green leather collar that had appeared around his throat. The words "Property of Draco Malfoy" emblazoned in silver script across the front.

"And don't you forget it."

Harry grinned contentedly.

"Oh, I won't."

And with that he rolled onto Draco, proceeding to show him exactly how true those words were.

_Earlier that evening…_

"Harry, it's time."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione who was currently perched on the end of Ron's bed.

"I know." He replied, reaching into his trunk for his carefully wrapped leather trousers.

It was time for the final phase of Harry's get-Draco-Malfoy-into-bed plan.

As Harry dressed for the Slytherin party, he thought back to the previous parties; the way Malfoy had looked at him, watched him. The Slytherin wanted him, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Harry's new wardrobe had produced a much greater effect that he had predicted, and he would be ever thankful to Hermione for taking him shopping.

Moving to check is reflection, Harry looked down at his trousers. It was funny; he had been so reluctant to buy them, yet now... Harry was beginning to wish he had just given in to Hermione in the first place and worn them to the Hufflepuff party like she suggested. If Malfoy hadn't been able to keep his eyes off Harry before, he was in for a real treat tonight.

And as Harry spelled the trousers to hug his body even more tightly than they already did, Harry knew that this time, Draco could neither resist nor deny him. Tonight, Malfoy would be _his_.

Fin


End file.
